


Professor R.J Lupin

by Cynical_Criminal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynical_Criminal/pseuds/Cynical_Criminal
Summary: A short fic I wrote to um... make myself cryAbout Remus Lupin preparing to return to Hogwarts after twelves years alone as he thinks of his friends
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. The Train

**Author's Note:**

> I do not support JKR or her views

PROFESSOR R.J LUPIN

Three hours until the train would leave, and Remus Lupin still hadn’t packed. Three hours was a long time, so he figured he still had a while yet before he even had to look at his suitcase. He needed a valid reason to justify stalling so got up off the thirteen-year-old sofa to go to the kettle only to realise he had no clean mugs. With a sigh, he surveyed the eight dirty ones scattering the kitchen alone and stretched out an arm for the closest. It was chipped and practically ancient, he’d had it a very long time and today it stirred an old intimacy within him. It was a horrible mug actually with a garish floral pattern all over it – it had been a wedding gift for Lily Evans that had come in the mail from her awful sister a week after the celebration itself. Remus remembered James reassuring her that he was sure the post had just been slow, but he had secretly agreed with Lily that the late arrival had been a subtle snub which was why she’d been so keen to get rid of the present… and Remus wasn’t going to say no to a free mug. 

Back on the sofa, he wrapped his palms around the warmth of the mug and remembered cups of tea and black coffee with Lily in the common room or the library, pouring over the books laid out in front of them or levitated at reading level. He remembered tea at the Potter’s house when they’d first moved in; James would practically force a mug on you before you were even through the door, eager to prove how good of a host he was. Sharing a mug of tea in the St Mungo’s waiting room that one July with Peter and another man, all exhausted, they’d been awake for hours, but none of them would have missed that moment for the world.

Harry. Oh Harry. Would he have to see him today? He’d be at the feast so probably, but he could avoid eye-contact. Not that he should! This was his best friends’ son – he ought to try and connect with him or something. Harry wouldn’t be expecting him to, he knew less about Remus than Remus did about him and that was very little. It was doubtful that knowing the difference between Harry’s hungry crying and his tired crying would help much in forming a bond with him now, even if he and Lily had been the only ones who’d ever been able to hear the difference.

He hadn’t seen the boy in almost twelve years! Twelve! He didn’t even know what he’d look like except that would still have eyes that were an exact replica of Lily Evan’s. He remembered James in their dormitory, ever since second year, talking about Lily’s beautiful green eyes, how pleased he’d been when Harry had been born with them. Dumbledore could have brought a picture at least, so he could prepare himself but of course he hadn’t. Wonderful, yet another department for the old fury at Albus Dumbledore to manifest within, and yet, he’d still come when Dumbledore called, hadn’t he? Despite pretending to need time to consider, Remus had known he was going to accept the offer from the moment he’d given it. To go back to Hogwarts was all he’d ever really wanted since he’d left after all so, once the old headmaster had assured him that his *ahem* personal problems would be taken care of, he was sold.

Two and half hours to go and his tea was cold which was a waste of a perfectly good teabag. He sighed and got to his feet to drain the cup and then actually washed it, gently, before replacing it in the cupboard. This way, when he had to come back, there would at least one clean mug. No-one would be checking on the apartment whilst he was away which was perfectly fine as he didn’t have a pet or anything of the sort. Animal hair got everywhere, he knew this. For the first few months after it had happened, he’d still found black dog hairs on all of his furniture and that had hurt enough that he’d never consider a pet. 

Right then, the suitcase. He hated that he knew exactly where it was – right at the back of the broom cupboard with a leather jacket that smelled faintly of dog draped over it that he ought to have sold on years ago but had somehow never found the time. The dust in the broom cupboard was overwhelming and it billowed out in a small cloud when he forced open the door. It was a small room of memories that he preferred not to revisit when he could avoid it. He couldn’t avoid it today though; he needed the trunk because he certainly didn’t have another big enough for his things and he couldn’t deny that there would likely be a lot of memories resurfacing soon anyway. 

Checking his watch, he saw he only had two hours until the train left now. He really did have to stop stalling. He’d apparate to the station probably but he had to be prepared to arrive a little off as his apparition was not a part of magic he’d used recently, he’d been using magic as little as he possibly could for the last twelve years but that would have to change now – you couldn’t teach a defence against the dark arts class without practical magic. He’d wanted to get there early too and find a carriage before anyone he knew arrived on the platform (if he ran into Molly she’d surely fuss, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the attention). 

Throwing the jacket to the side and vowing to sell it as soon as he got home, Remus grabbed hold of the handle of his trunk and dragged it back to the couch with him. Vintage, beautiful and carefully embossed with slightly dulled lettering that read Professor R.J Lupin, the trunk was almost certainly the most expensive thing he owned himself – the apartment and its furniture were simply borrowed from someone who… didn’t need them anymore. Carefully, he brushed away the layers of dust that had settled on it and immediately realised it needed polishing which was hardly surprising after sixteen years he supposed but he definitely didn’t have time to do that now and it would still serve its purpose. 

Gently, he fingered the gold lettering, tracing his name and blamed the ever so faint pricking in his eyes on all the stirred-up dust in the air – maybe he had a mild allergy. It wasn’t real gold all the way through at least and definitely not gold on the clasps because it was too soft, but it was probably gold plated. He… Black… hadn’t wanted to say how much it had cost which definitely meant it was a lot. 

The marauders (James, Peter and Black) had bought him this trunk when he’d turned eighteen. They hadn’t mentioned why they’d chosen a trunk, but he knew it was because they’d seen his old battered one gradually fall into worse display over the years, watched him trying to fix it but to no avail. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift and, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew who’s idea it had been which was why he’d left the gift rotting in the broom closet for so long. 

That and the fact he hadn’t actually been a professor up until two weeks ago. He remembered laughing over the lettering when he’d seen it. They’d laughed too, he missed the intimacy of a shared joke. At school, he’d spent so many of his evenings in the library that he’d become a teacher of sorts to younger students struggling with harder pieces of homework which was all much to the amusement of his friends. Professor Moony, they’d called him, for weeks but it did not say Moony on the case because that was only for them. It hit him then, as it had so many times before, with an intense, heart-breaking emptiness that he would never be called that name again unless James or Peter were so inclined to haunt him in that way or, or unless Sirius Black was screaming it from behind his bars, screaming for the only marauder he hadn’t brought to death yet but who he had destroyed all the same. 

It was with that image in his head that he entered his bedroom to rifle round for old robes he could take with him. Taking one look at the once shared bed that he had been unable to replace, he ran to the bathroom and promptly threw up the morning’s toast. Gasping and shuddering slightly, he pushed himself away from the toilet bowl when finished and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself and then washed his mouth out with sink water, maybe he could get gum at the station, not from the trolley on the train though that would be… he didn’t know how he was going to handle the Hogwarts express without them. 

He threw his toothbrush and a comb into the trunk and decided that this had earned a five-minute break before he had to face his bedroom again. At the start he’d just slept on the sofa but most nights he could handle the bedroom now by just blocking everything out. He collected his two pairs of old robes with his eyes trained carefully on the floor trying to keep back what felt like an approaching panic attack and then threw them in the trunk too. Some other necessities later, he decided he was ready; the trunk was filled mainly with books that he had hated the thought of leaving behind even though he knew better than anyone that the selection at the Hogwarts library was excellent. 

Tucking his wand into a pocket, he stepped out of the door, trunk in hand and cast a quick locking spell before disapparating so quickly he couldn’t find the time to doubt himself. 

An hour now, until the train left, he’d timed it well. There was only a minute walk from the backstreet he’d apparated into to Kings Cross and, once there, he was at the barrier shortly. Sixteen years since he had last stood at the barrier despite the station being fairly close to home. He didn’t do a lot of train travel. 

He passed through the wall just as he had at eleven years old: without looking back once. Early, just has he had been at eleven too – if you were early then people did not pay attention to your arrival. Slipping aboard the train, he already knew he did not have a choice. There was no other carriage he could sit in even if they weren’t here with him. Overwhelmed by emotion, he sunk into his usual chair, a dull ache in the back of his throat.

Tired and hurting, Remus made the same decision as he had when he was eleven once more and shut his eyes for the release and the safety of sleep painfully aware that there would be no James Potter to wake him this time.


	2. The feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not completely canon compliant I don't think... I tried though and it's not fair off

When Remus’ eyes opened, the world was cold, and it was dark. There were voices in the car with him – twice he’d thought he’d be left alone and been mistaken then. Quietening the voices, he summoned a few flames for light and then, for just a second, thought he might have died in his sleep. Lit up in front of him was James, James here like when they were eleven to help ease the transition. It wasn’t of course, it was Harry, he knew that the second he got a look at the eyes. Seeing them, he wanted more than anything to tell him that they were his mother’s eyes, but he was sure the kid had already been told. Remus was not the only wizard who had known Lily and James and, if he said anything, Harry would want to know how he’d known her, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready for that yet. 

Suddenly, the cold set in, hard, and he knew what it was. But couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it made no sense! He made for the door, he had to try and keep it out. He wasn’t completely sure whether a train door would stop a dementor, but he had to try. A faint glimpse of the hooded cloak and it started. 

It was a younger Remus who gripped the phone with his hand bracing him against the wall gasping and shaking, ‘It’s not true Mary it’s not, tell me it isn’t’. Fuck. He couldn’t let this affect him, not now, someone was screaming. The baby was screaming, it must have been mustn’t it – he’d never asked for details about that night. It was so cold. He knew what he needed: a happy thought. Just one truly good and happy memory and he could do it. Remus hadn’t cast a Patronus since that night. Happy memories had never exactly been his strong suit and all the ones he’d used to use were tarnished now, ruined. That was Harry screaming, on the floor. He wondered briefly what he was seeing and then realised that, of course, he knew. The screams shattered through him, but he closed his mind to them. With every amount of willpower he possessed, he summoned James’ face on the very first Hogwarts express ride, the start of a wonderful friendship.   
‘James, James Potter’ the boy grinned and ran a hand through his messy hair. 

‘Expecto Patronum!’ The familiar silver wolf leapt from the end of his wand and relief coursed through him. Rushing to the door, he saw the dementor sweeping back down the train, what the hell was it doing here? The dementors were supposed to stay on Azkaban with the prisoners ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks!’ he yelled in cold sarcasm then span back into the newly lit carriage. Against his better judgement, his mind flashed to Black in Azkaban, surrounded by these creatures. 

Hiding his shaking hands, Remus surveyed the compartment. There was Harry, of course, on the floor and two friends hovering over him. One was a Weasley for sure, and that would be his sister in the corner looking shaken, the other was a girl he didn’t recognise running nervous hands through her frizzy black hair and pacing anxiously. The last in the carriage could only have been Frank and Alice’s kid, another weight settled in his stomach, what had that boy seen? Had he been there when -? Quickly, he pulled some chocolate he’d set aside out of his pocket and distributed chunks to the students, he remembered reading that it helped with dementor attacks when he was younger. He tried not to think about what else it helped with but, after handing a couple of pieces to Harry, he couldn’t help but picture James stood over his bed with an armful of chocolate frogs and a tired smile. 

After calming a little, his brain began to work, why had it been here? Where did it come from? He’d been cut off from the wizarding world for a long time but surely dementor patrols had not become standard practice whilst he was away? No, something must be wrong, the children did not look as though they’d experienced this before. 

‘Eat it, it helps,’ he tried to smile encouragingly through the worry as he turned to leave the compartment, ‘I must go and speak with the driver’.   
‘What was that thing?’ Harry had raised his head, eyes clouded with fear.   
‘One of the dementors of Azkaban.’ Remus strode down towards the front of the train, the boy’s friends would take care of him. 

When he arrived at the front, the driver was preparing the train to start up again, but she looked up as Remus entered. ‘You must be professor Lupin?’   
He nodded  
‘Dementors on the train,’ the witch shuddered, ‘Dumbledore will be furious when he hears. It’s insane, it’s not like Black could have gotten through everyone on the platform to sneak aboard.’   
Something very cold seemed to take over his whole body. It was worse than the dementors, a million times worse. All the dementors could show him was old memories, the past, he didn’t have many happy memories left for them to pray on but this, this. He thought of Harry in the car.   
‘Who?’  
‘Black, that’s who they’re looking for of course.’ The driver gestured to a folded-up newspaper on the side and Remus snatched it up, scanning the front page.  
BLACK, WHO HAS NOW BEEN ON THE RUN FOR TOTAL 3 WEEKS, THOUGHT TO BE HEADING FOR HOGWARTS  
The driver seemed to notice him steadying himself with considerable concern, ‘You hadn’t heard?’   
How hadn’t he heard? ‘I, uh, I don’t read the news.’   
She looked at him with some bewilderment and then shrugged, ‘the dementors are furious, looking everywhere of course. People are saying he wants Harry. Makes sense but I don’t know how he thinks he’ll get past Dumbledore, not even Black could be that good.’

Remus was completely still, memories flying through his head again: Sirius cradling baby Harry when they were home from St Mungo’s, how excited he’d been when James and Lily had named him godfather. He remembered coming home to Sirius in a kitchen full of discarded wrapping paper, desperately trying to neatly wrap a broomstick for his one-year-old godson. It was so wrong, so impossible to believe, to even think for a second that he would-   
How had he gotten out? He’d been in top level security in fucking Azkaban! Even Black wasn’t that good. He, Remus, couldn’t have done it and Sirius was no better than he was. Wow, even now, the old twinge of competitiveness. Maybe he’d used some dark magic he’d learnt in his time in Voldemort’s service. Maybe he’d turned – no that couldn’t be it, he refused to believe that was it.  
‘Professor Lupin?’ The train driver seemed really very worried now and he tried to flash her a calming smile that probably didn’t have the desired effect.   
‘Um, maybe you should go ahead to Hogwarts, let Dumbledore know?’   
A chance to speak to bloody Dumbledore before the students arrived was not something he was going to slip. Not bringing Lupin a picture of Harry was something he’d been willing to let slide but this, this was wrong. For a moment he considered just apparating back to his apartment but he didn’t think he could be there now, not where he, Black, had been and besides, Harry could be in danger this year. ‘Yeah sure I can do that’ he nodded at her but then realised he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed, ‘How can I get from here to Hogwarts?’ 

Apparently, the fire in the back of the steam train was linked to the Floo Network, though the fires were watched, so he paced back to his compartment to grab his case, trying to hold the anger back until he was in the castle. Harry was still looking shook and so were some of his friends, they’d barely touched the chocolate. ‘Make sure you eat that, I promise it helps.’ He tried to look wise and authoritative as he took his case, feeling sick at the mere sensation of the handle touching his hand, and headed for the fire.   
‘The Great Hall, Hogwarts’ he said loudly and the floo powder obeyed, spitting him out in that majestic room, just behind the teacher’s table.   
Albus Dumbledore sat close by having a mug of tea with Professor McGonagall, both heads snapped up as he arrived, and they took in the apparent fury that was alight in his eyes.   
Sensing this was a personal matter, the head of house made her excuses and swept from the hall.   
‘Remus.’ Dumbledore nodded a polite greeting which was the final tipping point.   
He threw down his suitcase. ‘You didn’t tell me he was back! THREE WEEKS and you didn’t tell me!’   
The headmaster raised an infuriatingly calm eyebrow at him, ‘It would have been fair to assume you were informed along with the rest of the UK?’   
Remus didn’t watch or read the news of any kind, it was full of stories about murder and terrorism, Dumbledore knew this, and he did not deny it when Remus reminded him of this fact.   
‘When were you planning on letting me know? When the bastard tries to break in?!’ He willed Dumbledore to turn round and face him properly, but the old man simply cast him a sideways look, features maddeningly peaceful.  
‘I was planning on telling you when you arrived actually, I was expecting you a few hours sooner like the rest of the teachers. Mr Lupin, I understand your anger and it is justified but I had feared you would not come if you’d known.’

And there it was. The tiny, fleeting victory that allowed him to control himself and lower his voice. Dumbledore hadn’t thought he’d come if he knew. Dumbledore had been wrong about him, he could have turned back when he’d found out, but he didn’t! Remus lowered himself into a chair at the table, as far away from the headmaster as possible. ‘So you forgot that I removed my fire from the floo network twelve years ago then?’ His tone was more moderated now, passive aggressive instead of outright.   
‘I had rather hoped you’d apply to have it relinked, for convenience.’   
‘I took the train instead.’   
‘And you’re here early simply to rant? Or did you also wish to tell me about the dementors?’  
Something in the headmaster’s tone seemed to scold Remus for not mentioning sooner but clearly he’d already been informed so he did not personally see the problem. He just nodded. 

‘Fudge sent an owl to notify me. Not request permission mind, just notify me.’   
For the first time Remus heard something other than complete calm in Dumbledore’s tone, he was annoyed by this at least. He said nothing in response; he had nothing else to say to the old man now. This was quite fortunate too as his fellow teachers began to enter the hall at this point, they’d probably been waiting for the yelling to die down. As they took their seats, Remus wondered suddenly whether he’d taken someone’s chair and whether he ought to stand up out of politeness, but no-one asked him to move. 

Severus Snape entered the hall last. Not looking for any more difficulty than was strictly necessary this year and fully aware of how dependent he would be upon the potions master, Remus had been hoping that their rivalry would have died with the marauders. He knew immediately that he would not be so lucky. The greasy-haired man fixed him with a look of pure loathing as he took a seat at the furthest possible point of the table and then straightened his back to stare pointedly ahead of him.   
The students were beginning to file in now and take their seats at the house table. Without meaning to, Remus found himself playing a morbid game that followed the lines of working out who’s family members had killed who’s. After scolding himself for this, he began to wonder whether he actually would be a good teacher if this was his first reaction to the hall filling with students. He’d just have to be. It would only be a year anyway, Remus wasn’t a fool, and he had no reason to expect to be any exception to the strange pattern of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers only lasting a year. Unfortunately, he could probably take a pretty good guess at why he’d have to leave. It probably wouldn’t have been his choice of subject if he were honest, James used to beat him, and Remus didn’t like being beaten.   
Neither did Severus Snape it seemed. After the sorting, when Dumbledore stood to welcome him as a new teacher and the professor had an excuse to look at him, the loathing mixed with an unfiltered jealousy! Of course Snape had wanted this subject, Remus fought back a laugh telling himself to be the bigger person, but it was sort of funny. Despite excelling in potions, Severus’s interests had always lain in the dark arts (thinly veiled as an interest in defending against them). This was another small victory, that was two so far! It was seeming more unlikely by the minute that he and Snape would be acting like adults this year and, to be honest, he wasn’t going to complain. Snivellus had always been a wonderful distraction.


	3. The Boggart

For maybe the first time since he’d arrived at Hogwarts, Remus was actually excited. He’d taught a few lessons so far and they’d gone well, really well actually he thought privately but this was one he was really looking forward to. It was going to be hard, especially for a third-year class and scary too, but it would actually be a useful piece of magic, one everyone should know. Besides, they were on the curriculum anyway and there was hardly any point in teaching them if you didn’t do it practically. Suddenly, with some worry, he thought back to his own last experience with a boggart. It had not been pleasant, maybe this would be too much for his class, but he reassured himself that they’d do fine in a controlled environment. Except maybe Harry… maybe it wouldn’t be best to let the boy combat the creature, coming face to face with he who must not be named might actually be too much for the kid and the rest of the class too. That could be worked around, he thought, they wouldn’t have the time to get through everybody. 

He was feeling a lot better since being at Hogwarts. It had taken having regular showers, good meals and a fairly ordinary sleep pattern forced on him for him to realise that the past twelve years had not exactly been ideal for his health. Though it wasn’t all improvements, twice already, he’d walked down a particular corridor or seen a particular portrait that had triggered a memory and had to go and lie down for a while, feeling nauseous. It was probably a good thing that he was not required to spend any time in his old common room, though he did feel strange having it so close by and not visiting. He’d been somewhat avoiding the library too because he couldn’t tell how he’d react, but he would run out of books from home soon and just have to see. 

Allowing what he hoped was a calm and confident smile to spread across his face, he swung open the doors to his classroom to find his third-year class waiting for him – Harry’s class. It was his first lesson with them, and he wanted to make an impression. Minerva had called him for a meeting at the start of term to inform him that the new teacher every year predicament had been more problematic recently and that apparently they’d actually had Lockhart fill the position last year (he knew he probably shouldn’t take pleasure in the man’s fate, but he had laughed over it anyway). He’d seen the results of the poor teaching across all of his classes and was secretly very pleased that the standards were so low. 

Reaching the front of the room, he set down his briefcase and turned to face the class. ‘Now if you would all please put your books away and follow me, you will only need your wands for this lesson.’   
There was an excited, slightly nervous murmuring amongst them, and he indulged himself with another small smile and then swept from the classroom with his class in tow. 

Rounding a corner, they ran directly into Peeves who was stuffing a keyhole with some old gum. The poltergeist had always rather liked James and Black but hadn’t been a fan of Remus and, upon seeing him, began to loudly chant his old song, ‘Loony Loony Lupin’ was the vague gist of the number and Remus sighed heavily.   
‘I would take the gum out of that keyhole if I were you Peeves, Mr Filch won’t be able to get in to his brooms’. Perhaps he would be listened to now, as a teacher, Peeves always seemed to have at least a little respect for them. The poltergeist blew a loud raspberry, so it seemed it wasn’t to be. Oh well, maybe his class would appreciate a demonstration. With a lazy flick of his wand, he sent the gum flying from the keyhole and up into Peeves’ nose, sending him whizzing away, cursing loudly.   
Boosted by a few compliments and impressed glances from his students, he led the way into the staffroom standing a little taller… okay maybe his old friends had been right – he was pretty good at this. 

His good mood was quickly stifled upon seeing the potions master already present, sneering at him from a low armchair. As Remus made to shut the door behind his students, Snape spoke up, telling him to leave the door open as he would be leaving, he couldn’t help but wonder why the professor hadn’t left before they’d arrived in that case. He didn’t have to wonder long.   
‘Possibly no-one’s warned you Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless miss Granger is hissing instructions into his ear. Snape threw this remark casually over his shoulder as he left the room. 

Remus assessed him, apparently he hadn’t matured at all then and his unpleasant nature didn’t appear to be exclusively directed at Remus. It was awful, calling a student out in that way in-front of the whole class but no-one looked shocked. He seethed slightly – a common occurrence then. Making sure not to show his pity, he cast a quick glance at the scarlet Neville and then, without thinking, at Harry who was glaring openly at his potions teacher. A quick surge of pride blossomed in him and he raised a cool eyebrow at Severus, who appeared to be waiting on his response, ‘I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation, and I’m sure he will perform it admirably’. He nodded a quick dismissal and Snape took it but not without curling his lip into a silent sneer – the man had not developed any new facial expressions since their youth either it seemed. The door slammed shut and he turned to his pleasingly attentive class and then gestured to the wardrobe in the corner, which had begun to shake and rattle. 

‘Not to worry,’ he assured them, ‘there’s a Boggart in there.’ Many members of his class did not appear calmed by this and looked even more apprehensive when he explained they would be practicing upon it. That was okay, it was expected. ‘So, the first question we must ask ourselves is what is a Boggart?’ They ought to know this already, but he was fairly certain it wouldn’t have ended up covered last year and he needed everyone to be on the same page.   
The black girl with the frizzy hair that he’d met briefly on the train shot her hand into the air. This was the girl that Snape had called miss Granger in such an unpleasant tone – Remus liked her already and gestured for her to answer.   
‘It’s a shapeshifter, it can take the form of whatever it thinks will frighten us the most.’   
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself.’ He fought back a smile as the girl seemed to glow with the praise. That was good, in his classroom, praise would be given where it was deserved. It wasn’t some expensive commodity that he had to limit, students deserved to feel recognised for their achievements. 

For the rest of the class, he quickly explained that the boggart was currently formless and, when it emerged, it would take the shape of the greatest fear of whoever it came face to face with. ‘This means we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin, have you spotted it Harry?’ He couldn’t resist the urge to talk to him and besides, the only student with their hand actually in the air was miss Granger and she had already answered.   
‘Uh, because there are so many of us that it wont know what shape to pick?’  
‘Precisely!’ Remus shot him a grin and the boy’s green eyes lit up slightly.   
‘So it’s always best to have company when dealing with a Boggart.’ He continued and then led into a quick anecdote that he’d thought might lighten the mood a little and then continued to teach.   
‘The charm to repel a Boggart is fairly simple, but it requires force of mind. See, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter, you need to force it to take a shape that you find amusing.’ 

They practiced the spell a few times before Remus finally beckoned Neville up to come stand with him. The kid looked absolutely terrified, but this was Frank and Alice’s kid and he’d never met anyone who was better at this charm than Alice, he was sure he could do it. ‘What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the entire world?’ 

The kid had to say it twice before Remus heard it: ‘Professor Snape’. A ripple of laughter went through the class but he wasn’t laughing – he was furious. The greatest fear of Neville Longbottom whose parents were tortured to madness by fucking death eaters, by Bellatrix fucking Lestrange, was Severus Snape. He’d have liked to walk to the dungeon and slam his slimy head against the wall so hard it cracked open but he suppressed that thought. He was a teacher, and an adult, he would have to handle this calmly. An idea flickered into his head, he’d missed this feeling, and he had to fight back a mischievous grin as he looked down at Neville.   
‘I believe you live with your grandmother?’  
‘Yes but I don’t want the boggart to turn into her either.’ He felt another stab of pity but didn’t let it show, pity was rarely kindly received.   
‘No, you misunderstand me,’ he reassured, flashing a genuine grin now, ‘can you tell me what sort of clothes your grandmother wears?’   
‘Well… a tall hat with a stuffed vulture on top and a long dress, usually green, sometimes a fox fur scarf too.’   
Oh crap this was going to be fantastic! ‘And a handbag?’  
‘A big red one.’ 

He told Neville what to do, how he had to picture those clothes very hard when the Boggart was freed and then turned to the class, ‘If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into Neville’s grandma’s clothes.’ There was a shout of laughter and even Neville managed a weak smile.   
He set the class to thinking of how they would make their own greatest fears funny as the Boggart would turn on each of them after Neville had fought it off. ‘Everyone ready?’ he asked after a minute and was greeted by nods and people drawing their wands.   
Gently, he led Neville to directly in front of the cupboard and patted his shoulder reassuringly. 

‘One,’ he stepped backwards.  
‘Two,’ god he really hoped this worked.   
‘Three!’ He pointed his wand at the cupboard doors which flung themselves open and out walked Severus Snape, his trademark sneer on his lips. The class was silent and Remus felt himself leaning forwards, come on, come on.   
The boy pointed his wand forwards, ‘Rid-riddikulus,’ he stammered. 

BANG the class exploded into laughter as their potions teacher was forced into the awful, moth-bitten clothes. Neville was flushed with pleasure and Remus even let himself catch a glimpse of Harry who cheered. Snape was going to hear about this and then the battle would truly be on. The potions master was the last person he needed to make an enemy of this year and he knew this but, looking at the scene unfolding in front of him, looking at Neville’s face, and Harry’s, it was completely worth it anyway. 

And James, James would have loved it. 

The other students managed the Boggart without any difficulty as far as he could see, he even allowed himself a few laughs at what they came up with. There was one terrifying moment when the Boggart had landed in-front of him and it had turned into the familiar old full-moon Boggart that he’d had when he’d first seen one at the age of eleven. It had changed since then, he’d gotten friends who were like family and there had been worse thing that he could imagine, other things to be afraid of. He supposed that, now they had all come to pass, it made sense for the moon to return. Repelling the Boggart quickly, he hoped none of his students had noticed. After successfully keeping it away from Harry and steering it back to Neville who finished it off completely, the Boggart lesson was over.   
Remus, for one, felt that it had been a resounding success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, any comments would be really appreciated. This is my first real fic and I'd love to know what you think


	4. The potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrryy, there was a bit of a wait between this chapter and the last.  
> I'm starting work on a happier college AU (about the marauders) so that's taking up a lot of my writing time and I don't want to post any of that until I'm a good way in.

Remus poured himself a third mug of tea as he tried to stay focussed on the pile of fifth year homework on the desk in front of him. The new Grindylow in the corner of his little office had started hissing at him and it wasn’t helping with his already raging headache. Pointlessly, he threw up his middle finger at the creature then groaned and silenced it wandlessly – his power was always higher on the night before the moon but so was his temper. As he tried to focus back on the papers, he convinced himself that the water demon was now death glaring him (which it very well might have been). Could you hex a water demon? Probably but that definitely wouldn’t be fair.

So far, his classes had been going really well and he’d even been enjoying marking homework because it was great to see how well his students were retaining information – everyone was definitely improving. Today however, he just found himself frustrated every time anyone got anything wrong because it was so simple and he’d explained it so well! How could they not get it? For the hundredth time he wondered if he should just quit and go home, no teacher should ever think like this about their students. At least he was tuned in enough to his mood swings to understand he was being irrational. 

As a compromise, he sifted through some pieces of parchment in his top desk draw until he found Miss Granger’s essay on Kappas. It wasn’t an assigned homework but she’d apparently been at a loose end and written a foot and a half on the creature they’d been studying recently. She’d seemed sort of bashful showing it to him and said quickly that he didn’t have to mark it if he was busy. He dearly hoped it hadn’t been a fellow teacher who’d made her feel ashamed about the extra work she was doing but he’d heard too many stories about the potions master not to suspect. Naturally, he’d taken in the essay and promised he’d get feedback back to her as soon as he could. 

Her writing style was wonderful, smooth yet formal and engaging. It reminded him a lot of some of his old essays structure-wise he thought with a hint of pride.  
Genuinely, he couldn’t fault the content itself but there were definitely a few points she would probably enjoy exploring further, maybe he could recommend her some books, it would be best to check the library first to make sure the ones he remembered on Kappas were still there. The library would be empty today as it was a Hogsmeade weekend which was good because he liked it more when it was quiet. He’d been up a few times since arriving and it had certainly been as rough as expected the first time. There had been this girl, who he’d later found out was in his second-year class, with flaming red hair and he’d nearly just turned around and gone back to his office but he was glad he hadn’t because he was already finished rereading his books from home. Thankfully, it had gotten easier from there.  
Leaving the cup of tea to go cold, which was fine because it was a poor replacement for cheap whiskey anyway (though he was proud of his decision to quit after finding out he’d be working with children), he went to open his door and head to the library. 

‘Harry?’ He’d almost bumped into the kid walking past his door. ‘What are you doing? Where are Ron and Hermione?’ It had pleased him a lot to see that the kid had such close friends and they seemed really great for him as well. 

‘Hogsmeade.’ The air of indifference was clearly a pretence.

Crap. You needed a form signed by your parent or guardian to go to Hogsmeade. He’d really hoped that Lily’s sister and her husband had been good carers but apparently they weren’t the best and a little bit of guilt slipped into him, should he have offered to take care of Harry? This was something he’d wondered a million times before. Maybe it wouldn’t have been the best idea with the state he was in, he consoled himself, and someone else would have had to look after him around the moons. Still, he’d have signed the bloody form. 

‘Why don’t you come in?’ He offered to show him the Grindylow and quickly lifted the charm he’d put on it. 

Harry followed him in, clearly interested. Remus had simply had to force himself to get over how hard it was to look at him since he could hardly just avoid him every time he taught third year; the exposure therapy had mostly worked. Still, this was the first time he’d had to be in a room alone with him and, as he listed off a few Grindylow facts, he began to feel the familiar urges again. 

‘Cup of tea? I was just thinking of making one.’

He ushered Harry into the chair on the other side of his desk, eager to not seem nervous and then busied himself with the tea. ‘I’ve only got teabags I’m afraid but I’m sure you’ve had quite enough of tea leaves.’ Having never set much stock by divination himself, he’d found himself laughing along with Minerva when she’d told him about Trelawney and smiling now as made the joke. 

Would it have worried Harry? Crap, he hadn’t even considered that. ‘You’re not worried are you?’ 

‘No.’

But a flash of concern or something similar did flash over the boy’s face and decided it wouldn’t be right just to let it slide. James never would have done if he’d thought there was something wrong. 

‘Is something worrying you Harry?’

‘No.’ The boy sipped at his tea and Remus was very ready to just leave it at that. He’d given it a perfectly good try and it didn’t help anyone to be pushy. 

‘Yes!’ He amended suddenly. ‘You know that day we fought the Boggart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you let me fight it?’

Ah so he had noticed then. Still he would have thought the boy would have had enough consideration for the other students that he’d see why, and the kid couldn’t want to see Voldemort could he? 

‘I would have thought that was obvious Harry?’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘I had assumed if the Boggart had faced you it would have assumed the face of Lord Voldemort.’ It was a bold move, he realised after finishing the sentence, to use the name. He had almost forgotten the fear surrounding it. 

‘Clearly I was wrong?’ He was intrigued now. 

‘I did think of Voldemort first but then I remember those – those dementors.’ 

With a sinking feeling, he realised he must have been right about what the dementors had shown Harry. He thought about how much his own worst memory hurt and that was just…hearing. Dementors – creatures who are made of and feed on fear. He supposed that the dementors must be most frightening to those whose greatest fear has already come to pass. 

‘That suggests what you fear most of all is – fear. Very wise Harry.’ He was fairly sure that had sounded smarter in his head but Harry looked a lot happier.  
They barely had a chance to continue their conversation before there was a knock at the door. Remus was fairly certain on who it was and held back a sigh – he had hoped he’d come later, after Harry had gone. 

‘Come in.’ 

Snape entered and paused at the sight of Harry. Remus raised a subtle eyebrow that he knew Severus would catch, daring him to question Harry’s presence. The potions master had been completely ignoring him since the Boggart incident and now shot him one of the filthiest sideways glares he’d ever seen. 

‘Thanks very much.’ He was antagonising him with the politeness. ‘Could you leave it on the desk here for me.’ Severus had clearly been expecting him to come to the door to get it and bristled at the discreet slight so Remus smiled serenely at him. 

‘I’m just showing Harry my Grindylow.’ 

‘Fascinating.’ Snape did not avert his eyes from him. ‘You should drink that directly.’

‘Yes, yes I will.’ 

‘I made a full cauldron if you need some more.’ 

‘I should probably take some tomorrow, thanks very much Severus.’

‘Not at all.’ There was a vicious glint in his eye. Remus wondered with some amusement what Harry thought of the layered atmosphere in the office. Maybe he’d get to explain the context to him at some point. Snape turned and left silently but not without a signature sneer, he stifled a laugh as Harry looked at the still smoking goblet with a fair amount of trepidation. 

‘Pity sugar makes it useless.’ He sniffed it then took a sip and shuddered – it tasted awful. 

Remus was not looking forward to tonight. Having his wolf body but human brain sounded really uncomfortable and downright unpleasant but it was certainly better than going back to the shack and, to some degree, he was grateful to Severus for brewing the extremely complex potion despite the fact he had certainly only agreed to do at Dumbledore’s request. 

‘Why-‘ Harry begun, clearly concerned. Good, he’d have been worried if James’ son didn’t mistrust Snape. 

‘I’m feeling a bit off-colour,’ he explained how the potions master had made him the potion for his health. 

‘Professor Snape’s really interested in the dark arts.’ Ha, if anyone knew that then it was Remus Lupin.’ 

‘Really?’ He kept drinking.

‘Some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defence against the Dark Arts job.’ Harry’s face was panicked and he was staring at him intensely as he drained the rest of the potion and made a face. 

‘Disgusting.’ He wondered idly what exactly Severus had done to convince the boy he would attempt a murder of his fellow teacher. ‘Well Harry, I’d better get back to work, I’ll see you at the feast later.’ 

Was that too harsh a dismissal, he wondered?

The feast passed without incident but Remus had a splitting headache the whole way through and wanted desperately to get back to his office despite knowing there was only going to be more pain waiting for him there. 

If anything, the transformation hurt more than it usually did, or maybe he just processed the pain more with a human mind. He did try to hold back his screaming but it hadn’t been entirely possible and he dearly hoped someone had soundproof the office. Utterly miserable and with nothing to do, he simply climbed into the undersized bed and waited for it to be over. Soft tears dripping from his eyes and matting his fur, he had no idea what was going on in the rest of the castle that night. It had been made clear that no-one was to disturb him and no-one did. In the morning, he’d find out and he’d wish it could have been on any other night. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much but he felt sure that he just shouldn’t have been the last to know.

The wolf had missed his pack every moon in a primal, aching way but he’d missed the dog most of all – he would wake with the bitter longing still in his head and curse himself for feeling it. It hurt him, even years after now, to imagine a caged Padfoot on that island howling too for a pack that would never truly run together again. 

Later, he would wonder whether Sirius had known about Wolfsbane or whether he had assumed he’d be tearing himself to shreds in the shack again. He never asked him, it seemed like a weird question so many months later. Secretly, he hoped that if he had thought he’d be alone in the shack, he might have come and looked for him as Padfoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I think Sirius probably did go to check the shack that night with the plan to leave before the moon went down.


End file.
